This is the final Platform Builder Campaign Challenge, and it has been great fun meeting new writers and making new friends. Thanks you Rachael Harrie for this wonderful opportunity to connect with writers of all genres.
The Challenge: Show not Tell
Write a blog post in 300 words or less, excluding the title. The post can be in any format, whether flash fiction, non-fiction, humorous blog musings, poem, etc. The blog post should show:
- that it’s morning,
- that a man or a woman (or both) is at the beach
- that the MC (main character) is bored
- that something stinks behind where he/she is sitting
- that something surprising happens.
Just for fun, see if you can involve all five senses AND include these random words: “synbatec,” “wastopaneer,” and “tacise.” (NB. these words are completely made up and are not intended to have any meaning other than the one you give them).
A sliver of orange appeared over the horizon, as if the clouds were pulling the sun out of the sea. She jogged down the empty beach for many miles, her breath steady and even. She stopped when she reached the rocky shoreline.
She leaned over and breathed deeply, taking the salty sea air into her lungs. Her bare feet sank into the sand as the waves lazily lopped over her ankles. She already felt free from the demon that imprisoned her. A grin crept across her face. She was grateful she had been so thorough in her planning.
From behind her a strong odor stung her lungs and made her eyes water. She jumped and turned to look.
“Red tide again,” she coughed. “I must stay calm, and leave no sign.”
Her eyes scanned the shoreline until she spotted the marker she had left in the rocks. She started climbing and yanked a bag from its hiding place. She opened it and removed a long silver rod. She pointed the shiny rod at the cliffs above and hissed “tacise…synbatec.” She landed with a thud on a bed of pine needles high above the water. She smiled as she tightly grasped her escape route.
Rapidly, she slipped into a pair of khakis and a navy shirt. She shoved her feet into a pair of loafers. The sun was a nice rosy glow, as it climbed into the sky. She glanced at her watch and tapped her foot.
“It’s time to leave this world,” she thought.
She carefully made her way to the large boulder. She stood looking out over the sea. A dark mist rushed towards her as she cried out, “wastopaneer – home.”
“That’s a wrap for today,” yelled the director. He looked up, but she was gone.
I entered the contest late, so my number is #99 . According to my count, I am at 300 words.
Copyright (c) 2011, Patricia Howe Tilton, All Rights Reserved